"No need to panic, uncles."
Robb stroked Grey Wind's bristling fur, patiently smoothing it down. Strangely enough, the lords present also felt their restless hearts slowly settle as they watched Robb's calm movements. The anxiety they'd felt upon hearing of our army's setbacks and the enemy's overwhelming strength eased considerably, and some of their ability to think rationally even returned.
Seeing that everyone had quieted down, Robb spoke slowly, "Tywin Lannister and his son may fight well, but they aren't without weaknesses. I heard that my father publicly exposed Joffrey as the product of incest between Jaime and Cersei, which is why he was imprisoned. That news has already spread across the continent. I'm certain that King Robert's two brothers will not allow Joffrey to sit peacefully on the Iron Throne."
Former King Robert Baratheon had originally been one of the seven nobles in Westeros eligible to inherit a ducal title. During the war to overthrow the Mad King, Eddard Stark dragged the Kingslayer Jaime off the Iron Throne and pushed Robert onto it.
Thus, the Baratheon family's original ducal seat was taken up by one of Robert's brothers. Aside from him, Robert had another brother, who had previously assisted him in King's Landing.
By law, if Joffrey were to lose his right of succession, both of these men would have legitimate claims to the throne. And both were dukes in name: one the Duke of Storm's End of House Baratheon, the other the Duke of Dragonstone, once ruled by the mad Targaryen kings.
Both men commanded troops and supplies, and the law stood on their side. No matter what, they would contest that throne.
Which meant that the Lannisters, who currently supported King's Landing, would soon face war on multiple fronts. Once chaos erupted, they would never be able to withstand a joint assault from the other four great houses. Time was not on their side.
That was precisely why, at the very start of the war, they had thrown their full strength into attacking House Tully of the Riverlands—to swiftly reduce their four ducal enemies to three.
The lords present were all nobles themselves and knew this information inside out. They nodded in agreement with Robb's analysis, yet their expressions remained heavy with worry.
The Lannisters might be in trouble—but things weren't much better on their side either.
Everyone's ultimate goal was King's Landing. Robert's two brothers would never see them as allies, only as secondary competitors. In the struggle for the throne, the winner took all.
Moreover, the pressure from House Lannister was still bearing down on them, and the old duke, Eddard, still needed to be rescued. Time wasn't on House Stark's side either.
Robb continued stroking Grey Wind as he laid out his strategy. "I've decided. Our main force will move to engage Tywin. But we won't launch a surprise attack while he's still unprepared. Instead, we'll cross the swamps and confront Tywin head-on, trapping him in Harrenhal and preventing him from taking even a single step out."
Ah?
Robb has gone mad?!
That was the first thought that flashed through every noble's mind.
This strategy was utterly absurd. Not to mention that your uncle's house is currently trapped in grave danger trying to rescue your father—shouting themselves hoarse while waiting for you to come to their aid—just the idea of crossing the swamps to face Tywin directly was already wildly unreasonable!
This wasn't merely foolish—it was sheer stupidity!
Why abandon such a massive geographical advantage like the swamps instead of using them, only to cross over and cut off your own retreat?
Why not strike while the enemy hasn't fully reacted yet?
Tywin could easily, in a very short time, wipe out all the minor Riverlands nobles near the kingsroad, then retreat straight into Harrenhal and stare down the northern army from afar.
By then, once the Kingslayer Jaime captured Riverrun and destroyed House Tully, the northern army would be caught between enemies on both fronts!
Even if Robb suddenly came to his senses halfway through and turned to attack Jaime, Tywin could calmly emerge from his castle and chase the northern army down from behind.
Either take down Jaime,
or ambush Tywin,
or remain behind to guard Moat Cailin.
These were three obvious strategic options.
Yet Young Lord Robb chose none of them.
He chose to march to his death.
Rickard Karstark wailed, "We'll lose the war if we do this!"
Roose Bolton said nothing. He stared intently at Robb, trying to discern what this young wolf was truly planning—or whether he was simply brave but brainless, a military fool who loved to give reckless orders.
The lesser lords below erupted into discussion. Some offered unconditional support, some were deeply worried, and others voiced fierce opposition.
The Greatjon and Maege of Bear Island, however, showed no unusual reaction at all. Upon hearing Robb's deployment, they tossed aside all other chaotic thoughts and resolved to carry out his orders without hesitation.
Even if they couldn't win, so be it. To die in battle for a warrior like Robb was an honor.
Robb coldly swept his gaze across the reactions of the assembled lords. "This matter is settled. But we won't depart immediately. House Manderly's cavalry and the men of the Riverlands are on their way. Once the army has fully assembled, we will march to punish Tywin!"
Seeing how resolute Robb was, the lords knew there was no room left for discussion. They could only accept the decision.
Back in Winterfell, Robb had already demonstrated extraordinary control and completely subdued several great lords. Once he made a decision, no one could oppose it.
Robb spoke again, stopping everyone as they prepared to leave. "While we wait for House Manderly's forces, I want you to properly train your soldiers and prepare for the coming slaughter."
"Yes!"
"There's one more thing. I need to select a personal guard. About three hundred men. This unit must be entirely cavalry, and they must be well equipped. Tomorrow, I hope to visit your camps and personally select the warriors."
The lords showed no strong reaction to this request. Unlike the five hundred soldiers Robb had borrowed together with Count Severn, these cavalrymen would be fiercely loyal to their own lords. There was no concern that Robb would take them and never return them.
Especially the knights personally dubbed by the lords themselves—they answered only to the one they had sworn allegiance to.
In truth, many nobles were delighted by this development. It gave them a legitimate opportunity to place their own offspring by Robb's side.
Many had been waiting for exactly this moment. Otherwise, why would Rickard Karstark bring both of his sons? Mitchy Severn had even brought his daughter along—nowadays he barely thought about the war at all, focusing instead on how to send his nearly thirty-year-old daughter into Robb's bed.
And no matter what, a commander had to be protected by a personal guard. On the battlefield, blades had no eyes. If the commander fell first, the entire situation would collapse into rout—something no one present wished to see.
Rickard Karstark instantly shed his gloom. "Lord Robb, you must choose my two sons. They're outstanding lads!"
"My son, Smalljon, is stronger than your two sons put together!"
The lords burst into heated discussion once more.
Everyone understood clearly: Robb was the future Duke of Winterfell. If their family's children could build a bond with him on the battlefield now, they would at least have a powerful backer in the future.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
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"Game of Thrones: Ruler of the Deep Seas "
" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
(End Chapter)